


Come As You Are

by ahopper84



Category: Hanson (Band), The Moffatts
Genre: Angry Sex, Crossdressing, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahopper84/pseuds/ahopper84
Summary: It was a years-old joke, but no one expected the punchline.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's my first Hanfic bingo entry! And... it's already longer than I expected. I hope you guys like it so far, though!

_Taylor_

It started as a joke. An old, tired joke I'd heard millions of times since I was twelve. And around Halloween, it always got worse.

"Hey Tay, you should go as a chick! You already look like one anyway!"

Ha. 

For over twenty years, every year like clockwork someone would bring it up. My family, my friends; even my ex-wife suggested it a couple times, both before and after we were married. I'd be lying if I said I never considered it, just to shut people up. Maybe it was pride that stopped me, or spite; maybe it was a little bit of fear. Whatever the reason, I staunchly avoided the subject year after year, laughing it off or just flat-out ignoring it, depending on whose turn it was to mention it.

But this year was different. Maybe it was because of the divorce. For months no one seemed to know how to act around me, whether to offer condolences or congratulations. Natalie and I told everyone it was a mutual agreement, which wasn't entirely untrue; you can't legally divorce someone without their consent, at least not in Oklahoma. Anyway, it didn't really matter who was to blame, if either of us really were. The fact that everything was finalized on my birthday was just a coincidence, one of those sad but funny twists of fate that makes everything ten times as awkward.

As September wound down, the subject of costumes started to pop up, first regarding the gaggle of kids, and then the grownups. I braced myself at every family dinner and friendly hang-out, but surprisingly, no one mentioned the subject of me in drag. Weeks went by, and I started to really notice. I even found myself asking what I should do, poking the bear, and still nothing. I should have been relieved, but instead I felt almost disappointed; I'd come to expect it, a twisted personal tradition in a way.

And then, about a week before the 31st, I made up my mind. 

We were going to be in Toronto on Halloween, and someone found a huge party for us to all go to. My brothers and I put together a group costume for on-stage, Alvin and the Chipmunks; I wasn't sure whose idea that was, but at least it was easy enough to pull off without looking too goofy. I didn't tell anyone what my real costume was, though. Zac and Isaac asked a couple days beforehand, and gave me a look when I dodged the question. I couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces. 

The day came, and with it, second thoughts. Our show was an early one, an afternoon gig at some festival. It went fine, the fans laughing it up at our red, blue, and green outfits; the fact that red was my favorite color anyway just added an extra layer of humor. We stayed after to sign a few autographs, but by seven we were back at the hotel getting ready for a night of fun. I told the guys I'd meet them at the club, then headed to my room. 

Getting mentally prepared was a bit of a surreal experience. As I showered, I tried to ignore the nagging voices in my head, but they were persistent. They whispered of years of curiosity, of secret thoughts I'd never admit to having, not even to myself. I took a deep breath, and decided to let go and just enjoy the experience without judgment. 

I looked over my outfit, laid out in pieces on the bed.

First came the panties, a silky dark red with black lace on the edges. The fabric was cool, and the lace softer than I expected. It took some adjusting to tuck myself in, but I managed; I was just glad I'd opted for full coverage, rather than a thong. Next came the matching bra. I'd chosen one with the most padding, and the effect was, well, effective. Part of me wanted to look in the mirror, but I decided to wait and see the full thing.

I'd thought about stockings, but decided to go bare-legged instead. I sat down and ran my hands over my calves and thighs, making sure I hadn't missed any spots with my razor. I was shocked at how smooth my skin was, and a little turned on. The whole thing had me a little turned on, if I was really honest with myself. Maybe that was part of what I'd been afraid of - enjoying it.

Shaking my head, I stepped into my skirt, a flouncy black piece made of something like velvet, but softer. It was long enough to cover everything, but not by much. A thin white tank top came next; after a moment's thought I tucked the bottom into the skirt. I slipped into my strappy heels; the first few steps were a little shaky, but after a couple passes back and forth across the room, I felt I was getting the hang of it.

All that was left was my makeup, and for that I'd have to look in the mirror. I took a deep breath, and stepped back into the bathroom.

It was like looking into a parallel dimension. It wasn't me, and yet it was. The woman I saw in front of me was... attractive. Even without the makeup, I felt myself getting drawn into the illusion. I did a little turn and laughed. Everyone had been right all along; I did make a hot chick.

Doing my makeup was easy enough. We'd had to wear plenty over the years for various tv spots, the only difference being the color choices and a few more steps. I went with a relatively neutral palette; a bit of blush on my cheeks, some rose-gold glitter on my lids, and a shiny gloss on my lips. I managed to line my eyes and apply my mascara without stabbing myself. A shoulder length wig in a color not too different from my own topped everything off.

A few carefully chosen pieces of jewelry and a spritz of perfume, and I was done. I looked myself over one more time, and smiled uneasily. I wondered what my brothers would say; I also wondered if I'd get made fun of, or hit on, or both. That last thought startled me. I hadn't thought about relationships much since the divorce, emotional or physical. Recently, though, I'd started getting the 'you should play the field' comments, and I wasn't dismissing them exactly. 

One of the myriad reasons behind the divorce was something plenty of people suspected, but very few knew the real truth about. I was attracted to both men and women. But I'd never cheated on my wife, and even before, I'd never done much more than kissing another man. It was a part of myself I'd had to put aside as soon as I heard the word 'pregnant '. Natalie had always known, and quietly accepted, personal beliefs aside. But when we realized we were drifting apart, of course it came up, words like 'freedom' being thrown out like patronizing breadcrumbs. 

Still, it was true. I was free now, in a sense, to explore those desires I'd had to ignore for so long. And while I'd been reluctant, maybe now was as good a time as any to see what was out there, beyond my precious comfort zone. 

Not that a simple Halloween costume would change my life. But either way, there was no turning back now. I was already late, so before I could think myself out of it, I threw my wallet and phone in my purse, slipped on my leather jacket, then rushed out the door. The night awaited, and with it... who knew.


	2. Chapter 2

_Scott_

I hate Halloween. I never got to really enjoy it much as a kid, the band keeping us too busy for trick or treating most years. There was one time we all dressed up as Kiss for a show, and that was kinda cool, but mostly I just never saw the point. And once I grew up, it was clear that for adults it's just an excuse to dress like a slut or a tool and get shit-faced. I could do that any day of the week, and usually did, minus the getup. Still, at least Halloween parties made it slightly easier to get laid.

I hadn't even planned on going out this year. I would've been perfectly happy back at my apartment with a bottle of something and a stack of horror flicks. But my stupid brothers made a big deal about getting together and hanging out, so I found myself being dragged to the largest club in Toronto. For all their bullshit about bonding, all three of them disappeared in under an hour.

I'm not stupid. I knew it was all a trick to help me 'get over' my ex-girlfriend. I'd tried telling them I was fine, especially since I'd been the one to kick her ass to the curb, but of course they didn't believe me. But whatever. I was out, the music was decent, and there were plenty of hotties practically begging someone to take them to bed.... or car... or bathroom; some looked more desperate than others.

I sipped my whiskey on the rocks and stared out at the crowd, looking for a potential target. A flash of blonde caught my eye, and I tilted my head to get a better view. Legs for days leading up to a skimpy black skirt, a barely-there white top with a hint of red underneath, black leather jacket, dirty blonde waves... She danced and swayed to the music, bending down a bit and showing off a perfect ass. She looked over her shoulder and smiled; I'd been caught.

I called for a shot and threw it down, then made my way over. Her blue eyes widened as I came closer; she probably recognized me, I figured. There was something a little familiar about her, but she turned away before I could figure out what. Still, she glanced over her shoulder as we started to dance. I rested my hands on her hips and felt her freeze, but just for a moment. The song changed to something sexy, and I pulled her closer. 

"I'm Scott," I said in her ear, and she chuckled. 

"I know." Her voice was a little lower than I'd expected, maybe an alto. "We've met before."

"I don't know, sweetheart. Pretty sure I wouldn't forget this." I gave her ass a squeeze and she jumped, but didn't pull away. I pulled her back against me, letting her feel the semi she'd already caused. She leaned her head back and gasped. "Lemme get you a drink."

She nodded and turned around, letting me drape an arm around her waist and lead her back to the bar. She turned her head away as we sat down, but I could see her blushing. I chuckled to myself; I was probably fulfiling her biggest teen fantasy, and we'd barely gotten started. I ordered a couple more shots and slid one her way. She glanced at me before quickly throwing it back. Het tongue traced the rim of the glass as she looked up at me through her lashes, and I felt my cock twitch. God I wanted that mouth on me. Feeling bold, I grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

She let out a soft whimper, but didn't pull away. In fact a moment later she was the one to deepen the kiss. We were both panting for breath when we split, and her cheeks were bright red. She looked around, then got up and pulled me back into the throng of people on the dance floor.

We spent the next hour dancing, drinking, and making out. As much fun as this was, I was more than ready to take our party someplace more private.

"You ready to get out of here?" I whispered, nipping at her earlobe. I ran a hand up her thigh, but she spun around before I could touch base.

"Scott," she panted. "Wait. There's something..." 

"C'mon, babe. I know you want this." I spun her around and pulled her against me.

And then I felt it.

Her... _His_ eyes went wide, and immediately started to water. Of course. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I reached out and lifted his chin, and there was the telltale proof. No wonder he'd been keeping his head down.

And then, like a second punch to the gut, I realized this wasn't just any guy. Those blue eyes hadn't just seemed familiar, they _were_ familiar.

"Taylor?"

"Scott, I... Im sorry..."

"Save it." I looked around, but thankfully no one was even glancing our way. I looked back at Taylor, and cursed under my breath. "Lets go." 

I spun around and started walking. Either he would follow or he wouldn't, but I had a feeling he would. I didn't look behind me until I stepped outside, the cool night air and sudden quiet confusing my senses for a moment. I didn't hear anything behind me at first, but a moment later the door to the club opened again, a blast of music followed by a frenzied clicking of heels on pavement. I hailed a cab, and only then turned around.

Taylor was staring at the ground. I had to laugh; if I hadnt felt the evidence, I never would've guessed. He really did look the part. 

"Scott, I-"

I held up a hand to silence him, and he looked back down.

Neither one of us said a word until we got to my apartment. Taylor barely looked up as I led him in and told him to sit on the couch. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and took a long swig, then brought it with me.

"It's been what, twenty years?" I asked and handed him the bottle. He nodded without looking up as he took a sip. "You can take that stupid wig off."

Again he just nodded and pulled off the fake locks. His own hair was shaggy and mussed, and he ran a hand through it.

"You never called, or wrote, or anything." I took the bottle back and took another swig. "I didn't even know you got hitched til I heard it on tv."

"I know,'" he said quietly. "I'm sorry. But it's not like we..." 

"Not like we what?" I snapped as he trailed off. "Not like we were boyfriends? Not like we meant anything to each other?"

"It was one time."

"One time and one whole weekend are two different things. And besides that, you know the shit we said to each other. Was all that bullshit?"

"Of course not," Taylor said, finally looking at me. "But we were kids. What did we know about love?"

"Sixteen's not a kid. And even if we didnt know shit, thats not an excuse to just disappear. Even I'm not that low."

"I was terrified, okay? My family would've hated me, our label was putting us through hell, what was I supposed to do? And then Natalie got knocked up and none of it mattered anymore because I was stuck."

"You think I wasn't scared too? My family was way more homophobic than yours, and we never even got half the fame you guys did. But I didn't care. I was ready to take on whatever shit we got, because by some fucking miracle, I'd actually found someone who made me feel all the shit I wrote about. And I thought that's how it was for you too, but I guess not."

I took a long drink, chugging until my throat burned. When I finally couldn't take anymore I slammed the bottle down on the coffee table and stared at Taylor. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I was a coward. And you deserved so much better. You still do. I don't blame you for hating me now. Punch me, kick me out, whatever you need to do."

My chest heaved as I stared him down. Maybe it was just a ploy, a guilt trip to get back into my good graces. Maybe he really did think I hated him now. And I was definitely furious, both for him leaving me years ago, and for tricking me tonight. But the last thing I wanted him to do was leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... looks like this is actually gonna be 4 chapters... whoops?

_Taylor_

When I'd seen him, I'd felt my heart stop. I almost couldn't believe it was really him. But when he came closer, I was sure even before he told me his name. When I told him we'd met, I was certain he'd recognize me, but he hadn't. It was wrong, I knew, but I couldn't resist. I'd already had a couple drinks, so maybe it was the alcohol blurring my judgrnent. Or maybe I was just that desperate for a second chance.

Scott had been the love of my life, once upon a time. We'd met at a festival gig, and ran off together shortly after. We'd spent two blissful days exploring each other, pouring our hearts out, so thankful to have finally found someone who understood, who held the same forbidden desires.

It was more than just the kinship of having to hide our true natures, though. There was a spark between us, a flash of something more powerful than I'd ever felt. It was like falling off a cliff, and never wanting to hit bottom. As we lay next to each other in a cramped hotel room, we said the words we'd both sung countless times, but for the first time truly meant them.

But I panicked. I thought about what everyone would say, would think. I thought about my church-going family. I thought about my millions of fans. I thought about my record label, which every day seemed hungrier for any excuse to write us off, a band they'd been saddled with rather than wanted.

I thought of all that, and I looked at the boy sleeping next to me, the boy I'd just hours before professed to loving with all my young, stupid heart.

I panicked, and I ran.

I hated myself for that decision for years, but I never really regretted it, because what choice did I have? And yet, when I saw Scott standing there, looking at me with blatant desire... all the regret I should have felt hit me at once. And so I ducked my head and played along, and fooled myself into thinking it would all work out somehow.

I've never claimed to be the smart one.

"Punch me, kick me out, whatever you need to do." I braced myself for his reaction, whatever it would be. I dared to look up; his eyes burned with a fire that scared me almost as much as it turned me on. What I didn't expect was for him to grab me by my lapels and yank me forward, crushing our lips together. It wasn't gentle or loving, but then I didn't deserve those. Maybe I wasn't even meant to enjoy it, but that didn't stop me.

I moaned and let myself fall against him, putting myself at his mercy. When his lips left my mouth and found my neck I leaned my head back, baring myself to him. He growled as his lips and teeth attacked, his fingers digging into my arms. I couldn't help moaning and writhing against him, desperate for anything and everything he would give me.

"So fucking selfish," he muttered. I started to tell him no, but honestly, was he wrong? I had been selfish, in the past as well as tonight.

"I'm sorry. I was selfish. Please, just... whatever you want, whatever you need. Just say the word."

"Whatever I want, huh?" Scott pulled back and smirked. I shivered at how cold his expression was, but nodded. I was dying of thirst, and he was my oasis; I wanted nothing more than to drown myself in his kiss, his touch. "What if what I want, is to hurt you? Hurt you like you hurt me?"

"Then hurt me," I replied without hesitation. "I deserve it."

Something passed over his eyes, something like surprised sympathy, but it was gone in an instant. 

"Damn right you do." And with that he was on me again, stealing my breath and replacing it with his own. I hung on tight as he pushed me back, hands pressing my shoulders into the couch beneath me. My body was bent at an uncomfortable angle, but I didn't care. Just like before, the kiss was harsh and unforgiving. He was taking what he wanted, and any pleasure I felt was purely coincidental. And I was perfectly fine with that.

"So fucking selfish," he repeated, before clamping his teeth down on the muscles in my neck. I tried to wriggle out of my jacket, and thankfully he didn't take it as a struggle to get away. He pulled at the leather, letting me up just barely enough to pull the jacket off my arms and toss it aside. His fingertips clawed ad my shoulders, pulling the straps of my top and bra down my arms. He sat back suddenly, one hand tangled in my hair pulling me up with him; his other hand reached behind and unhooked the lingerie with surprising deftness.

"Get that shit off, now." His hands were off me so quick I almost fell over. I scrambled to pull both pieces over my head, and had barely dropped them when he had me on my back again. His mouth was hot and wet, a stark contrast to the chilled air on my bare skin. I hissed as he nipped at my chest, his teeth catching my left nipple. My back arched, and one of his hands ran up my bare thigh to cup my ass.

"Scott... please..." I didn't even know what I was begging for; everything, anything. With him already calling me selfish twice, I knew begging would only make things worse... which may have been why I did it.

"Yeah, I know you want this," he growled against my ear. "You'll get it when I'm fucking ready to give it to you." He grabbed my leg behind the knee and pulled, settling himself between my thighs. The skirt was pushed up around my waist, revealing the panties I'd spent an embarrassingly long time choosing. Before I could even look to see what his reaction was - if any - he was grinding against me, and my eyes rolled back. 

"Please, Scott... Can I..." I looked up at him, my hands reaching for the button on his jeans. He stared at me for a second, panting.

"Can you what? What do you wanna do to me?" He sat back a little and smirked. "Go on, say it."

I huffed; Scott had to remember how shy I'd been back then about saying anything explicit. I wished I could say I'd grown out of it, but I could already feel my cheeks burning.

"Say it," he barked, the smirk gone from his lips. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "Look at me," he snapped. 

I took a deep breath. This was just part of my punishment, I reminded myself, and more than worth it. I opened my eyes and held my breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I want to suck your cock."

He cocked an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. He sat back and popped the button on his jeans, then leaned his head back.

"Get over here and do it, then."

I nearly fell off the couch in my scramble to turn around, laying on my stomach between his legs, my feet hanging off the other end of the couch. My hands were trembling as I tugged his zipper down. My mouth literally watered at the sight of his dick, bigger than both memory and expectation. He wasn't as long as I was, but impressively thick. I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my hand around him.

"Well, don't just stare at it, get to sucking." Scott grabbed a fistful of hair and shoved my head down, giving me no choice but to take it. I wrapped my mouth around him and groaned; I instantly loved the way he tasted, the way he felt against my tongue. But I didn't have time to stop and savor it; Scott only gave me a moment before he started to thrust against my mouth.

I gripped his thighs to steady myself as I held still, letting him fuck my mouth. My own erection was pressed between my my body and the couch, our movements providing just a little bit of friction, but not enough to really get me off.

"Fuck, Tay, you're good at that. You like when I use you? You like bein' my little slut?"

"Mmh..." I looked up at Scott, nodding as much as his grip would allow. 

"Good. 'Cuz we're just getting started."


End file.
